Shift
by Rhagar
Summary: Even after all these many years, this muddy, dirty thing that was life proved capable of surprising him again. Just a single phrase. A few words uttered by the mouth of a childish, young kid somehow were able to alter the fate of the entire universe. Would wonders never cease? AU.


Hey, everyone. This here is an AU focusing on what could've been had Jessamine confessed to breaking the vase. It's Delilah centric. I always liked her, so I thought I'd do a short piece about her.

Not beta'ed.

 **Warnings:** Spoilers for the series (duh!), death.

 **Disclaimer:** Don't own Dishonored nor any of its content.

* * *

 **Shift**

Life was like a stream of water… no, that wasn't quite right. Life was like a dirty, muddy stream of water. It flowed slowly, like an indolent, slothful beast that couldn't be prodded into quicker action, repeating the same motions time and time again.

Empires rose and fell, people lived, created more life and died. People killed and were killed in return. Oceans rose and fell. Everything was in motion all the time and yet, it stayed in worn patterns that he knew like old friends.

He knew these truths well, for he had seen them countless times.

The Outsider smiled from his perch, feeling gusts of dreamt wind caress his face. With a foot dangling in the nothingness, he hummed a low melody under his breath and in the stark silence of the Void, it resonated like a powerful chorus – it wasn't long until the winds brought back the faintest whispers of an eerie groaning sound.

In the distance, vague shapes of great size drifted in the void, swimming in a sea of no water.

His smile widened ever so slightly.

Now if only there was- wait.

The otherworldly being tilted his head in curiosity. Something had changed. Something that shouldn't have happened actually did. Now, countless years of known quantities had gone up in smoke.

He _had_ to see this.

Not even bothering to stand, The Outsider let himself fall from his perch, dissolving into a thousand trails of the blackest smoke. He fell upside down on another platform, caressed by distant pale grey lights. A single step, and the world spun on its axis, bringing him to stand upright.

What was up and down in the Void, anyway? They were directions, a way to situate yourself in the world, but that ceased to be a concern when such things became merely a matter of _perspective_.

He had no need for such constricting concepts.

Even after all these many years, this muddy, dirty thing that was life proved capable to surprise him again. Just a single phrase. A few words uttered by the mouth of a childish, young kid somehow were able to alter the fate of the entire universe.

" _Jessaime, did you break the vase?"_

A stern voice, reflecting sharp glances and harsh frowns.

Shamed eyes looking down, shuffling awkwardly with the embarrassment of one knowing they were being scolded.

" _I- yes. I'm sorry Daddy."_

The admission, delivered in a small voice, inhibited; the strong vein of _disappointment_ , _fear_ , _love, shame_ , _acceptance_ thrummed in the Void, reverberating like ripples in the little pond of murky water that was their lives.

How interesting, seeing as the giant of clay feet they directed depended on their little world.

He wondered, though. Hows, whys. They were important to some and he supposed curiosity was still something that had never quite left him. He'd thought nothing could surprise him by now, but he'd been obviously wrong.

That was alright, he liked being surprised – as long as they were welcome, _pleasant_ surprises.

With a corner of his lips quirking in amusement, The Outsider closed his eyes and watched.

 **xxOOOxx**

The guards had come quickly when they heard the sudden ruckus. They only saw the broken remains of their Emperor's most prized possessions, his daughter and the servant's kid she always hung around with and assumed the worst.

The scared faces didn't register in their minds as they made sure to keep them inside the room. The guards who'd served on Dunwall Tower for a determinate amount of time knew of Euhorn's fondness for that singular item. It had been a gift from a childhood friend, ordered on a fit of revelry and drunken debauchery when they were brimming with youthful foolishness. His friend had spared no expense on the gift and enlisted Morley's best glassblower for the task.

The result had been plain to see, a one-of-a-kind masterpiece with intricate and very complex designs, so whoever admired it wouldn't be wrong to imagine that was reason enough for the Emperor's liking.

No one had spoken much about the Emperor's friend around him ever since he died, though, and those who knew preferred not to bring him up.

Those few in the guards who knew about the story had gained an unhealthy-looking pallor at seeing the broken remains of the valued piece.

No one wanted to tell the Emperor about losing his beloved and ridiculously expensive vase – in the end, as it tends to happen, it fell on the shoulders of one poor rookie to tell him, who quaked in his boots as the Emperor's face darkened with each word uttered.

"Come with me, soldier."

The Emperor strode towards the room with a clear sense of purpose and the guard couldn't help but think of him as an angry, barely restrained force of nature. Had the fear of losing his job not occupied the entirety of his mind, perhaps he'd have spared a pitying thought for the two little girls.

The two girls were standing awkwardly in the center of the room when they arrived. The Emperor walked into the room with the harshest of frowns as he regarded the kids.

"Girls, I'm going to ask you a question. Only one, but I want you both to be truthful and don't lie to me, because that will _disappoint_ me. Do you both understand?"

"Yes." Their voices were small, barely louder than the sound of soft footsteps and their eyes shied away from his gaze.

"Good. Now – who broke my vase?"

It seemed like the space itself around them held their breath for the answer, but only an uncomfortable silence permeated the room.

"Girls, understand that if I have to get the answer out of you, it will be a much more unpleasant affair," he said. It looked like the situation was moments away from having _strong_ words thrown around.

His face was twisted into an angry frown; standing in the middle of a floor littered with the broken pieces of his beloved vase likely only exacerbated his rage.

The Emperor's daughter sent a nervous glance to her playmate, trying to get reassurance, or confidence or _anything_ from her, but the kid was just frozen, shivering in terror like a poor leaf in the wind.

Realizing she'd get no help from her, she tried to still her wildly beating heart and took a tentative step forward. Euhorn's attention snapped to her as she did and it took all her presence of mind to not flinch from the intensity in the eyes of her father.

"Yes, Jessamine? What do you have to say?"

"I-I'm sorry, Dad. It was- it was me, but, but I didn't mean to! Please, please, don't punish me!"

Euhorn stared at her with a blank face before turning to Delilah. "Delilah, is this true?"

"I- No! It was me, lord Euhorn! I broke the vase!" she exclaimed, stepping up to Jessamine's side and grabbing her hand.

"Do _not_ lie to me! Who broke it?!" he snapped.

Some of the guards visibly flinched, and most looked incredibly uncomfortable in their silence.

"Delilah is just trying to take the blame for me, Father. I'm sorry; I know you loved the vase…"

"Again, is this true, Delilah?"

The girl hesitated, clearly torn on whether she should stick up to her sister or tell the truth, afraid of Father. Jessamine's reassuring, if nervous, smile helped, if only a bit.

"Yes…"

"I see…" Euhorn muttered, sagging visibly. His worn out appearance was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. He walked up to the girls before crouching down to their level. "Girls… I'm angry, yes, but I'd be angrier if you tried to keep lying to me. Lying is a sign of bad character, understood?"

Delilah wanted to point out the flaws of that statement, but she was aware of the out he was giving them, so they simply nodded and scurried off the moment he allowed it. The last Delilah saw of her father that day was him looking mournfully at the broken pieces of the vase.

There was a strange lump in her throat seeing that, but they ran and it wasn't until they reached Jessamine's room that they stopped.

Redfaced and crying, Jessamine let her body sprawl on the huge bed. "Dad is mad at me," she muttered.

Delilah just snorted, just as red-faced from effort and cuddled up to her. "Oh, come on, sis, you know he isn't! He's just upset you broke the stupid vase. I mean, the designs were pretty, but it was just something, not someone!" she reasoned in an effort to cheer her up.

"You think so?"

"I'm sure! In no time he'll have forgotten about this, you'll see!"

She said that, but her mind couldn't help but keep replaying the heartbroken look on his face.

"I hope you're right…" Jessamine said, wiping her tears.

"Of course I am, I'm the oldest of the two, aren't I? That means I've got to look out for you and cheer you up when needed!" Delilah declared with a wide smile, bright and kind.

"Definitely the best sister in the world," Jessamine said with a giggle.

"That's right!" Delilah replied with a smug smile before extending her arms. "Hug?"

Jessamine threw herself to Delilah's arms and it wasn't long until they were laughing themselves silly about the embarrassing fall of one of the court's nobles on some banana peel.

 **xxOOOxx**

"How interesting, indeed," The Outsider mused as he leant back. As he spoke, he could feel events that had been all but certainty fade into mere what-could've-beens like wisps of smoke.

Disasters and crime that were going to happen disappeared from his sight and only remained in his mind. Good deeds, unknown to all but him disappeared as new ones were born.

"What a strange family, the Kaldwin line," he said out loud with a chuckle. "Despite everything, Jessamine and Delilah remain important yet."

It was too bad Delilah wouldn't get his mark now, but – oh? The Outsider smiled. Maybe Delilah Kaldwin would still get the Mark yet. He wondered, though.

He couldn't wait to see what this new Delilah would do with it.

 **xxOOOxx**

Time passed, like a static slideshow of blacks and whites.

A year and some odd months after that incident with the vase, Jessamine picked a young boy of Serkonos, silent and sullen-looking, as her future Lord Potector. It caused quite the stir in social circles, but Euhorn's own Royal Protector never once uttered a word about her opinion on the matter. They could regularly be seen together, with her coaching on his future duties and overseeing the furthering of his training.

It helped he already was quite good from his time serving the Grand Guard of Theodanis Abele. During their hormone-raging adolescence, both girls spent more than one night swooning over Jessamine's dark and mysterious protector.

Euhorn finally agreed to legitimize Delilah as Delilah Kaldwin after much procrastination. Even so, despite being a year younger, Jessamine remained the heir of the Empire, being the legitimate child.

Delilah couldn't care less. She was ecstatic to finally be recognized as Jessamine's sister. Now they'd be able to stand next to each other as equals, one sister giving support to the other. Besides, one didn't need a throne to learn politics at court.

She'd admit only to Jessamine that the velvet cushions on Father's throne felt pretty great, though.

The absolute bliss didn't last long. It was just hushed whispers at first, but she was anything but stupid. It only took her a bit of effort before she managed to eavesdrop on those conversations and heard the gossip they didn't dare say to her face.

'The Bastard Daughter,' they called her. 'Euhorn's mistake'.

The initial shock gave way to a seed of rage, scorn and hatred. They had no right! Those stupid buffoons only knew to badmouth their betters behind their backs for fear of reprisal!

She wheathered the thinly veiled insults behind her back under a fierce scowl, but sometimes, that mask cracked. Sometimes, it got so bad she just couldn't take it and wept. Only her mother knew about such moments. She never wanted Jessamine to see her like that – she was the older sibling, she was supposed to be someone to look up to for her.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before something gave in. He was just a stupid idiot really, a snot-nosed son of a noble at court that without the filter that gave maturity, had taken to calling her what he heard from his fathers.

He'd kept following her around, until the amused looks she saw on the people around made her snap.

Killing someone wasn't… as hard as she thought it would be.

It was what came after that that Delilah would've never expected in her wildest dreams.

 **xxOOOxx**

He appeared before her as a floating man, arms folded and shadows coiling his frame like a blanket. His black eyes roamed over her shivering teenage body, watching as she looked around in fright.

"Hello, Delilah Kaldwin. Quite the interesting girl, aren't you?"

His introduction made it impossible for the girl to ignore him and she turned to look at him. He could see how her throat bobbed as she gulped, nervous.

"Who – who are you? Where are we?"

"The _where_ is a matter of debate amongst some, but it's simple my home. As for who am I – well, I am endlessness. Multiply it by infinity and take it to the depths of forever and you will still have barely glimpsed what I am. I am The Outsider."

"The Outsider. You're real?" she asked with numb shock. "This is the Void?" she questioned, turning to look at the vague shapes floating beyond her sight.

"If you wish to call it by that name," he said with mild dryness, not even bothering with shrugging, before he moved onto another matter. "What did you feel when you killed that boy, I wonder? It was _easy_ , wasn't it? And all because he kept calling you names."

"He was just repeating what he heard his parents say about me," she hissed, face red from rage.

"Yet you still killed him. Now he won't grow up to know better and fight for better rights for both men and women," he drawled in an even tone.

Delilah didn't have a retort to that, instead preferring to look down at her shoes, before she flinched from the sudden, stinging pain on her hand. Grabbing her wrist, she watched as a strange symbol appeared on the back of her hand, glowing bright as if it was being seared on her skin.

"This is my Mark," the Outsider said, face impassive. "There are forces in this world few know about. Some call it magic. Now you will be able to control these powers as you will it."

"Why give me this? I've done nothing to deserve it."

"Indeed, you haven't." The bland rebuttal felt like a vicious slap to Delilah, who reared back. "Yet you interest me. Consider this Mark my gift to you. How you use it falls upon you, as it did to all the others before you. A little word of advice?" At that, The Outsider smiled and Delilah felt like staring into the deepest abyss of _wrongness_. "I would recommend taking up painting. Think on that."

"But-"

"It's time to go back, but know that I will be watching, Delilah."

 **xxOOOxx**

If she had any doubts of whether what just happened was real or not, the unseeing. glazed eyes of the boy showed the horrible nightmare her life had become because of a bout of scornful rage.

Somehow, in the middle of her hyperventilation, she was able to half-carry, half-drag the body to the canal and dump it in it, unseen by all. When asked, she only said he'd gotten bored of _teasing_ her - teeth clenched as she forced herself to say the word out loud – and had wandered off.

They believed her; why would anyone suspect Jessamine's older sister, quiet and respectful as she was?

Inwardly, the seed of hate yet grew, but it was now fertilized by a gripping sensation of guilt.

In the safety of her room, Delilah debated telling Jessamine or not. They were sisters, they shared everything – but she didn't want to see how her eyes clouded over when she told her she'd killed someone, a boy, for petty reasons. She didn't want her sister, the one she cared most about in this world, to look at her differently.

 _Like a killer_ , her traitorous head supplied. _A monster wearing the face of her sister._

Delilah took the secret of her first kill with her to the grave.

 **xxOOOxx**

Years passed them by and Delilah grew up into a woman of sharp features, contrasting Jessamine's rounder ones. The older Kaldwin sibling had taken to wearing black gloves one day and never really told Jessamine _why_ – a passing fancy that somehow remained a constant over the years. It quickly became a distinguishing feature of Delilah's.

Her powers grew unknown to all, with trips through Dunwall in the dead of the night, exploring every nook and cranny she could find. She was probably one of the few who knew Dunwall like the back of her hand. The back on which her Mark glowed with ancient power.

She had taken to read anything she could get her hands on regards to the Void and The Outsider – the Abbey of the Everyman was the main and most known source, but she took everything they said with a grain of salt. She never liked the Abbey. Still, there was a whole other world, mysterious and veiled to most and she couldn't help the insatiable curiosity in her.

The runes she found sometimes in her nightly strolls helped. Touching them made her feel closer to the Void. It was quite a strange feeling – like standing on the edge of the world while swinging back and forth on the soles of her feet and never quite falling. After some experimentation, she realized that her powers were just a bit stronger with each rune she picked up.

Using them was… strange. There was nothing like it, she knew, and the exclusivity both terrified and elated her. Through her Mark she could imbue her will into inanimate objects and that was such a fearsome power she stayed up many nights wondering why she had these powers.

" _I've done nothing to deserve it."_

" _Indeed, you haven't."_

Even painting, the hobby she'd taken up to ignore what had become of her life, was linked to him. It bothered her, but painting was truly one of the few things she fully appreciated as something she'd made hers. Apprenticing under Sokolov's guidance had truly been a blessing. According to him, she was gifted with the brush and she couldn't help the inordinately pleased feeling of accomplishment hearing that.

So she painted, even as the world kept spinning around her. She painted, even though she never met anyone else who could use powers similar to hers. She painted, picturing Brianna in whatever way her lover wished. She painted, imprinting on the canvas the sorrow and hopelessness from Father's death. She painted, trying to fill the void Mother had left behind with her death.

Jessamine always encouraged it with a smile.

"I love them, they really liven up the palace with those bright colors! Keep making the art you love, sister."

A killer like her didn't deserve such amazing sibling. She never despised her for being born of a different woman, she simply accepted Delilah as her older sister from the start.

She loved Jessamine just for that. Her last family in this world and her most loved one.

She painted a multitude of pictures, but the one she was most proud of was that painting of Jessamine sleeping with little Emily napping in her arms. It was such an adorable sight she'd rushed to get her things and started painting, wondering about the best approach to blackmail Jessamine with it. Corvo, silent like a shadow, had stood guard over the three with a small amused smile tugging at his lips.

It was still strange to think of him as Emily's father. Delilah knew that should the information be leaked, it would spell disaster for them, but she could never bring herself to say a word about caution when she saw the love with which he held Emily on those fleeting, stolen moments.

Despite trying her best to snuff it out, she was jealous Brianna and her could never have that. Their world wouldn't allow it. And yet, they lied to themselves, whispering of the things they'd buy her, the house in which she'd grow up.

They were pretty lies.

 **xxOOOxx**

The world kept spinning until it came to a screeching halt one day of grey clouds.

The message arrived when she was on Potterstead on Jessamine's behalf for a diplomatic mission. The rat plague was a strange one; all attempts at eradicating it from the source had failed so far. Yet the rats were the last of her worries as her world came crashing down.

 _The Empress is dead. Corvo, a traitor. Corvo, the assassin. Emily rescued before she could be killed. Return to Dunwall._

The words of the letter were clear and concise, written in a typewriter no doubt. They still made no sense to Delilah.

Jessamine couldn't be dead. She just… _she can't be dead._

Something erupted within her, even though she stood still as a statue, hand gripping tightly the letter. Mechanically, she looked at the sender and her face darkened further if that was even possible. Hiram Burrows, Royal Spymaster. A weasel in human form, if there was ever one. Contempt was a very mild word for what she felt about Burrows.

If it was true, if Jessamine truly was… truly was dead, then she would find out. She didn't care how or when, she would find out why and who did it. Whether it was Corvo or someone else, she'd kill whoever did it in the most gruesome death she could come up!

 _She's dead, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead._

The words rattled around in her skull, threatening to drive her mad. She took the first ship that left Potterstead in direction to Dunwall.

She would make the assassin pay and she'd make sure Emily was safe from power-grubbing opportunists.

Delilah didn't deserve Jessamine as a sister, but she got her and she'd make sure her death didn't go unpunished.

 **xxOOOxx**

On another world, The Outsider smiled, eager to see how it all played out.

The world had shifted years ago from its intended course. It was time to see what became of the changes themselves.

* * *

 **Final notes and thoughts:** That's it. This one-shot pretty much grew out of my control: I had just planned to end it after the vase scene, but I kept writing and ended up writing a loose, small collection of moments throughout their lives up until the events of the first game. I'll admit it feels like it's still on a pretty rough state, like it hasn't been properly edited. Could be. I'd keep editing it, but I don't feel like it. Maybe some other time.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Maybe you'd care enough to take some of your valuable time to leave a review and tell me your thoughts on it?

Thanks for reading!


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